Rebelious
by PipTookMySoul
Summary: Drabbley, fluffy, angtsyness featuring the Princess Abigail and Ben Finn. Mostly shorts, will definately earn the rating in the future. I heart critisim, the good and the bad!
1. Chapter 1

Abigail had grown accustomed to hearing the tales of her mother's exploits. Voyages to the kingdom's farthest reaches in search of ancient treasures, battles heavy with bloodlust to seek revenge for her sister's untimely end, the gargoyles that plagued silent farm towns and her faithful hound's resurrection on a forgotten island were told of with the enthusiasm that only Walter could muster together. Surely, Abigail had realized years ago, the truth had been stretched, pulled and mended back together like the colorful taffy Jasper slipped into her palms when her endless questions grew tiresome.

'So I had thought,' the princess pondered with a sigh as the boat she, Walter and Ben had commandeered rocked through the choppy waves. She had always expected to lead her life as her brother envisioned for her; quiet and luxurious. For everything bad Logan had done in the last several years, he had looked out for his baby sister. He kept her safe and sheltered her from the intricacies of court and the affluent subjects who would exploit her the first chance they got.

And yet she was forging the upheaval to remove him from the throne she had never wanted, following closely in the steps her mother had paved half of a century before. She was even gathering individuals amongst the armies; fellow heroes in the aspects she found mattered. Walter Beck, who had fought alongside her mother and was the strongest fighter she thought she would ever meet. Page, the iron willed leader of the Bowerstone Resistance, always ready to fight for what she believed was right. Then there was Ben Finn, who always seemed ready to fight, no matter the circumstance, and come out on top. Ben Finn who would flirt with anyone with swaying hips. Ben Finn who just couldn't stay out of Abigail's thoughts.

Her eyes were full of trepidation as they turned from the endless sea that looked the same as it did three days ago; russet tresses flowed around her shoulders softly in the salty breeze as gold-trimmed white satin whipped at her ankles. If she knew Walter any less, she'd swear he was steering the ship in circles. She fought the urge to say as much, knowing his return was likely to include "balls" and "no one's sailed to Aurora in decades".

"Cheer up, _Majesty_," Ben's smooth voice encouraged, peering at her through the golden locks that always seemed to be in his eyes. He wore his smirk like his sword, perfectly balanced and as much for show as it was for his own protection. Sauntering his way to the rails that guarded the bow of the ship, he playfully chided his sovereign. "Jasper would faint if he saw your back hunched like that."

Her cool, emerald eyes met playful cerulean as her body unconsciously stiffened. Soft fingers smoothed the white, gathered material of her dress at her stomach. "Well, you must forgive me, Goodman Finn, if some of us were raised to be proper ladies."

"Yes, mustn't let the arm candy look comfortable," he teased with a wink. "And to think, I was beginning to think you were human after all. Tsk, tsk." Ben would be remiss to say he didn't enjoy ruffling most he came across. Princess Abigail was far from exempt from such tendencies. Truthfully, he thought of it as more of a sign of endearment than any means of offence.

Clearly not surmising his barbed affection, shoulders pulled back as Abigail tried to make herself appear as tall as possible, something she remembered her mother doing when a particular visitor would begin to annoy her. "I beg your pardon? I am the Princess of Albion, not some trollop to be paraded about!"

Ben snorted good naturedly. "Oh! I forgot! Princesses aren't arm candy, they're married off to the wealthiest general-"

In a flash, the tip of her sword found the hollow of Ben's throat. White steel glistened with the living tattoo, blue as the ocean they sailed across, shaking as her breath became labored. Eyes darkened and flashed with anger and loss, memories of Elliot flooding. "Hold your tongue, churl." She pressed forward, drawing a single drop of blood. "Another word and you'll swim your way back to Mourningwood, belly up."

"Balls, Abigail!" Walter's voice boomed from behind her. The older man knew flashes of rage were not a rarity in her bloodline, tempers usually on a hair trigger. "If we kill the Captain, we very may well lose his troops," he reasoned with her logically. Rational usually won out. "As for you, Finn, I don't recommend pissing her off."

The princess huffed indignantly, and in a single, graceful movement, she sheathed her sword behind her back. "Do not refer to me in such a manor in the future."

Safe from decapitation, Ben pressed fingers to the cut on his neck. It was a minor cut, no more deep than a knick from shaving. "No need to apologize," he scowled, "only a flesh wound." His steady gaze kept hers, unwilling to cave first. 'Not to this spoiled and moody brat.'

"Next time I'll be sure to leave a mark that will scar. Maybe then you'll not forget your place," she threatened. Words similar to those Logan spoke as his men dragged Elliot to his death…Her eyes dropped to her slipper-clad feet.

Ben looked to Walter. "And we're putting this one on the throne? Are you sure about this?" he asked dryly.

Walter laughed heartily. "She's got spunk! She's not the tyrant her brother is; up until the day we left, the worst she'd ever hurt anyone was the time or two she'd tripped over Cerberus' tail."

Upon hearing his name, the black and white collie jumped to his feet next to Walter. He barked once, tail wagging, before bounding to his mistress. He nudged at her knees, begging for attention. Abigail couldn't help but smile as her faithful friend licked at her fingers.

"What'd you do that day? Trip over the king's tail, then? Spill his tea, maybe?"

Walter's mirth was quick to fade. "There was a rally in the castle garden's. She saved a dozen citizens and several children." Ben's confusion did not go unnoticed to either party, though he did not speak. "Princess?"

She nodded, shifting to watch the ocean as they crashed along through the waves. "Logan agreed to spare them at the expense of one forfeited life. I had to choose, lest they would all die. The protestors or the captain of my sentinel, Elliot."

"You chose to save many. Surely this Elliot understood his sacrifice?" Ben pushed, obviously missing something.

"He insisted, in fact, that his life was given to save the others," Walter confirmed solemnly. "He wasn't just a guard, he was hand-chosen as someone who would protect-"

"He was my betrothed." Delicate hands gripped the railing tight, gathering a few splinters. "I wanted to save him. I was going to. I wish…" Unshed tears glistened unseen as she tried to gather her words and piece them together. "It doesn't matter, it cannot be changed."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to all those who favorited this story! I greatly appreciate the time everyone took to read and add…I'd love you even more if you reviewed and told me if there's anything in particular you do or don't like ;)_

_I scrapped this chapter and just started anew, it's shorter than I wanted but my regimen of Nyquil for the flu and hydrocodone for my recent hand surgery keep me pretty much too sedated to write more than segmented drabbley things. Sorry. Amazing what a flu will do._

It resounded like thunder, a ball of seismic energy in Abigail's stomach. Rolling and turning, she could feel the bile at war with her insides, rising in her throat. Distantly, she could make out words; chanting. Warmth, alien, oozing through her veins, marching in time to the steady beat being chanted.

It was somewhere near her.

It flashed behind her eyes before burning her throat, spilling from her mouth. It tasted of acid, it smelled of fire. Sweat beaded on fevered skin. The incantation gained a counter rhythm, uneven in tempo and pitch. Another wretch, flowing like lava.

Something was above her.

It was cool, running over her face and washing away the sick. The voice was closer, the concord timbre chasing away the pain like the morning sun broke through the night. It was familiar, she now noticed. From where, she could not place. It was shaken. It was smooth.

Eyes opened wide, wild and unfocused. Shadowy figures looked over her, but all she could see was blonde hair and angular jaw. Blue eyes like the sapphires that had adorned her mother's elaborate rings. His mouth was still moving, but she could barely make out anything. Her heavy lids drifted shut, only a few of his words making it to her ears.

"…thank Avo you're awa…"

"…to drink some water, Princess…"

"…maker, can you hear…"

When her eyes opened again, she found herself again looking into that familiar stare, though it was uncharacteristically soft. Lips curled to a small smile as his hand brushed a lock of hair from her face.

"I was wondering when you would grace us with your consciousness," he chided. "To think I thought I would have to take over this rebellion of yours."

"Shut up, Captain Finn." Voice eroded by the bile, she cringed.

For a moment, an inscrutable look passed over his face, however he was quick to recover. "I wanted to apologize. For what I said before-"

"Don't," she whispered. "It doesn't matter. What happened, happened."

His fingers worked gently through her hair, absently as he pieced his thoughts together. "It does matter."

"I harbor no animosity, Captain. I assure you." Her hand raised to press against the cut on his neck. "You are not the only one with regrets." He looked as if he was ready to argue his point, but stopped when he saw her eyes welling slowly. "Now tell me Walter is safe."

The soldier's shoulder's sagged. "Safe? Indeed he is. He is, however, in far worse shape than you, my dear Princess. The Auroran's finest healers are with him," his fingers to her shoulders kept her prone. "The best thing you can do for him is rest. Working yourself up will only make him kill me after he awakes."

She couldn't take it anymore. Brief flirtations had gone on much too long, slowly growing bolder. Lingering touches, his hands trailing over her shoulder, down her arms and across her knuckles. She couldn't take it any longer. Combined with the insufferable heat and, even worse, the _humidity, _Abigail was fit to burst.

As she lowered herself into the awaiting bath, warm and scented with honey, she couldn't help but wonder why she had allowed him to get under her skin so. Sure, he was handsome, but she had met dozens of attractive men and women alike in her travels. Ben was brash and harsh in every manor of speaking, his temper hot and his words always walking that thin borderline of appropriate.

Soapy hands scrubbed at the days worth of dirt, blood and grime accumulated in the forsaken desert she now occupied. Salt and sand itched her scalp, leaving it as irritated as she had felt upon entering her temporary chambers. But, finally left to her own devices, the princess found herself becoming less tense. Close to content, even.

Unconsciously, a hand traveled down the porcelain skin of her clavicle, past the shapely curve of her hips and to the sensitive folds between her thighs. A soft sigh escaped chapped lips; nearly a year had gone by since Elliot's death and the last time her body has truly been allowed to relax in such a way.

Dexterous fingers circled and dipped, working a slow counter rhythm around her nub. A choked gasp, eyes drifted closed and head tilted back. Her second finger plunged past the ring of muscle. Her chest heaved. She heard her soft moans, distantly as a second hand joined. Body tense, a name spilled from wanton lips, before shifting hips gave way to quaking thighs.

Her breath was ragged as she wiped her forehead with the back of a hand. Eyes slipped open, the room empty and cold. She hadn't felt so alone before.

Ben.


	3. Chapter 3

_I would like to thank those who reviewed: The Immortal Priestess (the first), ScarletChakra, emberlies, and Kassandra Black (whom I secretly adore). Your kind words mean the world to me, and it is because of you that this chapter came so smoothly together. I never like anything I write, but this chapter I almost do. I wanted it to be longer, but three bottles of Lionshead down, and I just can't cohesively write more to this bit. Also- I'm glad to hear that, in your opinions at least, I have Ben's character down. Chalk that one up to twitter stalking him..._

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Abigail liked Ben. He was charming, charismatic, funny, and handsome even. But, much to her chagrin, he was overly flirtatious with _everyone _and had a tongue that was quite possibly sharper than her own sword. He could only be taken seriously when their rag-tag bunch was surrounded by enemies that needed to be slain.

With a sigh, she cocked her rifle and adjusted her aim, firing off a single shot. The side of her mouth curled to a smile as it found the nasal cavity of a distant hobbe. Aiming slightly to the left, her second shot found the eye socket of the next hobbe. Her companion fired off his own twin shots, each falling perfectly between their designated targets' eyes.

"What's the matter, Princess? Hobbe's too easy?" Ben questioned lightly as he reloaded.

"Nothing is the matter, Captain Finn." Her response was full of the regal tone Logan had encouraged her to use, devoid of any real emotion or commitment. She swung her rifle over her shoulder and began summoning a ball of ice in her right palm. "Hobbes make terrific target practice."

Ben watched the woman from the corner of his eye, the swirling lines of color, the physical manifestation of her will glowing on her exposed hands and wrists. If he looked close enough, he could even see the faint glow beneath the turquoise, long sleeved blouse she wore, starting at her heart.

White-blue lines seemed to surge, no other warning given as the ice flew from the monarch's hand, hitting a large hobbe in the direct center of his chest, effectively freezing it solid. Pointing the first finger of her left hand delicately, a faint purple branch almost poured down her arm as a single bolt of lightning struck out, making contact and shattering the horrid creature. "I believe that was the last of them, Master Finn."

"Spoil sport." Turning to the princess, he smirked. "That's cheating, you know. One shot per beastie. Anyone could kill a hobbe in two."

Abigail chortled in response. "With ice and lightning? If you could summon any one will spell, I would humbly concede to your superiority."

The soldier's eyes held a wicked shine as he stepped closer to his companion. "_Any _will spell, eh?" His broad frame seemed to tower over her as she nodded in agreement, suddenly unable to find her voice. A calloused hand slipped beneath her cloak, gently grasping her own supple hand. Smirk softening, he slowly lifted her hand to his lips, their stares never breaking. Wind-chapped lips brushed over her knuckles in a feathery caress.

"Balls! You couldn't save one for us?"

Abigail broke from her reverie, glancing over the edge of their cliff to the clearing below, where Walter and Cerberus had just arrived. Thankful for the trees they were hiding amongst, she blushed a deep crimson. "I told you to be quick!"

Ben snickered, warm breath against her skin. "I'll take your concession any time now. No need to bother with a fancy dinner- such formalities would be excessive. A nice, private admission will do. At which time I will collect my prize."

Releasing a tiny shock into his hand, Abigail reclaimed her hand, her will lines shimmering with the exertion. "There will be no such acknowledgment, Captain. Pray tell, what was that to be a demonstration of?"

"My great will power!" he protested. "I can make a woman's perception of time slow, delaying their reaction time!"

The princess huffed. "Hardly. It was a valiant effort, but not a demonstration of will."

Reaching for her hand again, the captain pulled her close, fingers twined as her chest pressed tight to his. "I believe I deserve another try, Abigail."

Ignoring his informality, her eyes danced playfully. It wasn't often she found the opportunity to best him in a war of words. "By your own definition, that would be cheating. After all, anyone could kill a hobbe in two shots."

"Yes, yes. Two shots with your mighty will. The difference, this time, would be that I have no intention of attempting to use any powers. Will or otherwise."

Feeling her heart rebel against better judgment and reason, rapidly pounding, her breath hitched. Not even the chill of the wind was minded, no thoughts daring to cross the princess' mind. "Would that not defeat the purpose…?"

Those damnable chapped lips were upon her flesh again, this time flush to hers.


	4. Chapter 4

_A big thank you again to those who review, follow and favorite =) _

_I realize I change the sequence of events a bit from what happened in game, buuuut I felt like it flowed better, and further develops the intimacy between Ben and Abigail in a way that I think would have been wonky as a second chapter. I already have the majority of the next chapter done, and it's quite fluffy to make up for this one. It should hopefully be up on my next day off from work. Whenever that is..._

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Cerberus darted through the bustling streets of Bowerstone, a blur of black and white fur. The hound ignored the occasional step on his paw and bump, racing towards his destination. Abigail and Ben were not far behind, both in dark slacks and grey cloaks, hoods up to hide their faces. Finally, they found themselves carefully weaving through an amassed crowd in the vast garden of Bowerstone Castle, the faithful collie nudging the knees of his master.

"Treason will not be tolerated in my Albion. For much too long, rodents have infiltrated their way into positions reserved for those deemed worthy." Logan stood on a dais high above the collected, his tone monotonous yet authoritative. "Today, we shall make an example of one such pest."

Guards pushed a hooded man to the front of the people, his hands bounds behind him. Trousers and shirt were dirty, ripped and torn, and he noticeably favored his right leg. Through a hole in his shirt, a familiar tattoo could be made out.

"No…" Ben murmured, his mouth going dry.

The hood was roughly pulled, revealing Major Swift's bruised and swollen face. His normally twisted moustache was matted with blood. Head held high and proud, the Major presumably could not see through his blackened eyes.

Abigail looped her arm through Ben's, trying to pull him away from the scene she knew would haunt his dreams. "Come on, Captain. You don't need to see this." Her free hand pressed to his cheek, body pressing closer as she looked into his eyes.

Shaking his head, he tried to shove past her. "He will not go through this alone! Abi, how could you even suggest that?" he hissed.

"Because I was there when Logan's men killed Elliot, and it tore me apart!" She stepped before him, ignoring the droning of her brother. "Please, Benjamin. Do not put yourself through-"

Three shots fired in succession.

Ben's eyes widened, pure shock and terror plain on his face as the Major fell. Three fatal shots to the head, heart and lung ensured he would not rise again. Overkill in the most extreme of ways. It was more than an example, it was a clear message to any that dare to oppose the king. A message that, if Ben Finn had anything to say (which he always did, like it or not), would not go unanswered.

He was barely aware of the princess leading him through dark alleys, and the faint whimpering as Cerberus trotted along at his side, licking at his limp fingers. It wasn't until the dog growled and barked at a stray ruffian that he was forced to realize the whimpering was his own. His companion eventually helped him to sit on an abandoned crate, then kneeled before him.

"Captain Finn?"

His distant eyes met hers. Despite the grime and muck, she was beautiful. Pale skin and clover green eyes, with a gentle splay of freckles across her nose. Loose curls of chocolate brown hair framed her face, a few tufts almost escaping the confines of her cloak. At her blush, he realized he was musing aloud.

"Benjamin, I didn't want you to see that," she whispered, taking his large hands in her own. She lightly stroked at his rough, calloused skin, tracing invisible patterns and reveling in his warmth. Sighing, she smiled at him despairingly. She was clearly choosing her next words carefully, chewing on the side of her lip thoughtfully. "You're going to ask me to kill him, aren't you?"

This grasped his full attention. "You would allow Logan to live after everything he has done? After everyone he has killed?" Ben asked, incredulous. He pulled his hands from hers, standing up abruptly. "That tyrant deserves no mercy!"

"That tyrant is my brother, lest you forget. You do not know him as I once did: the young man that mended my scraped elbows and wiped away my tears when our mother died." Her voice was a harsh whisper.

"No, I know him as the man that deserted the Swift Brigade to our deaths at Mourningwood. We lost countless good men at that fort, who did nothing but their duty to the crown. I know him as the man that just murdered only family I had left!" he argued. "What of your Elliot? Can you really just forget that pain so easily?"

Tears sprang to her eyes. "I could never forget the pain of losing Elliot, just as Logan wished of me. But his death was my fault, and I have learned to accept that. Might I add that you are asking me to kill the only family I have? Who are you trying to seek vengeance on, Logan or me?" Ben started to argue, but Abigail silenced him with the wave of a hand. "Now is not the time."

Cerberus' excited barks acted as a warning, and the pair quickly made their way to retreat to the sewers, recounting the afternoon's events to Walter and Page.


	5. Chapter 5

The rented room was littered with gently flickering candles, the soft scent of mountain flowers vaguely covering the scent of ale and moldy cheese. Abigail sat cross legged on a worn rug in the center of the room, The Cock in the Crown's "luxury sweet". Her eyes were lidded, hands hovering with palms up at her sides. Deep, even breaths kept the time as she honed her concentration.

She carefully formed the images from memories in her mind, gentle wisps of wind against the leaves of trees. The unmistakable howl in the darkest of hours, comforting and yet harrowing. The shrill whisper, beating flakes of snow against her pale cheeks.

Her eyes focused on the candle just a few feet in front of her, the slow flicker hypnotizing the young monarch. As it seemed to bob and duck, her eyes closed and arms slowly lowered, drawing upon her strength. Both hands met at her clavicle and pushed forward in an effort to release the energy. Creaking an eye open, her face fell from serene indifference to frown. "Sod."

A low chuckle resounded behind her. "And you said my attempt was bad." Moving from the straw mattress to the floor, Ben's hands held onto her hips as he situated himself at her back, thumbs pressing lazy circles into her back. "Relax, dear Princess."

Abigail's head dropped forward. She had stolen away to Ben's room hours previously, unable to master this newest spell. Unfortunately, his presence only seemed to hinder her further. "I can't."

"Of course you can. You just need to empty that pretty little head of yours." She huffed in response. "As it turns out, you're in the presence of a master of relaxation. You've received my introduction already," his lips ghosted over the nape of her neck, hot breath leaving goose flesh in its wake, "and if you will allow me, I can further…acclimate you to the fine art." As if to test her boundaries, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her back. Hearing only a slow sigh in response, his lips began to travel over her shoulders.

"As relaxing as that may be, it certainly does nothing to improve my concentration."

The captain rested his chin on her shoulder, the poppy seeds of stubble scratching her delicate skin. He tugged at her long-sleeved tunic, further pulling one side down her arm. "I can only imagine this isn't helping." He could practically feel her eyes roll. "In a warm, fire-ridden room, you cover up like the celibate priestesses in Old Quarter." Ben himself settled on a light cotton shirt he had cut the sleeves from, various blood stains and holes littering the once pristine white fabric.

"I am a princess, Benjamin. It isn't very appropriate for me to traipse about in minimal clothing."

His large arms encircled her waist, a solitary finger poking through a gap between buttons at the center. He sought out the warmth of her forbidden skin. "That's well and fine when we're in town and on the road. But it's you and me in this room. And Cerby, but I don't think he counts." Feeling Abigail tense, his easy mood faltered. "Princess?"

"I don't want you to see my lines." The statement was simple enough, for it's sheer ludicrousness. Ben thought to say as much, but settled on listening for the time being. "They shift and glow when I use will, but they never go away. Not completely."

A hand traveled north, cupping and tilting her chin towards him. "That's it? That's why you don't allow yourself the freedom of simple clothing? My dear Princess Abigail, you are remarkably gorgeous- especially for a pale, freckle-less girl of Albion," he teased. "You could have a third of forth breast hidden under your shirt, and I would still find you irresistible."

Cheeks tinted pink as his lips met hers, slowly moving together. "Because you wouldn't enjoy that at all," she remarked. "You just want to get me out of my clothes."

A devilish smirk lit his features. "A happy coincidence."

"I'm sure," she giggled, melting into his chest.

"It's true," he affirmed, pressing his lips to her cheek. "Now try again. If you get it right this time, I might even let you see my tattoo."

The princess snorted, a hand coming to cover her mouth. "Why does this not surprise me?"

Lips met again briefly. Ben was first to pull away, resting his forehead against Abigail's. "Try again."

Sighing, the princess faced forward. Her gaze swept the room, taking note of each flame. Shoulders pulled back, and hands that had tangled themselves with the captain's retreated to their previous positions. Drawing upon a small amount of her will, her eyes closed.

Ben watched as the lines flowed from the center of her chest and out, down to her hands. Pale yellow and green lines outlined the shape of gauntlets, turning and swirling in her palm. She pressed forward and with a small flare of light, a gentle wind rushed forward, extinguishing nearly half of the candles. There were several beats of silence. "You can open your eyes now."

Abigail smiled sheepishly as she opened her eyes. Seeing her progress, she squealed and turned to Ben. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she tackled him to the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**I have been working mad overtime the passed week or so to get Christmas shopping and baking done and have been working on this in the form of tiny snippets at a time, waiting for my oven timer to go off. (There was also a day at work that I was editing while trying to make salsas at work, but all that did was get pineapple and jalapeno all over my notebook.) I don't particularly like this bit, but it is necessary. However, my plan is to have a little part duex written, typed and delivered at some point Christmas Eve or Day. And, because I'm lovely, it will quite possibly be smutty. **

**I must dedicate this to the lovely readers, people who favorite/follow and review. And especially, to Miss Kassandra Black for reminding me why I write with her lovely reviews. If it were physically possible, there would be warm, yummy brownies waiting for you in your inbox. **

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If Ben was sure of one thing, it was his ability as a sharpshooter. In the few hours since the sun had set, he had picked his way towards the castle with half the ammunition another would need to fell the same number of soldiers as him. He hadn't, however, expected one of Logan's elite to be in his same league. The bullet deeply buried in his right bicep would attest to the fact. Ben shot him twice, left handed, out of spite.

"Finn!" Walter boomed, running to his friend. "Balls! I told you not to go and get yourself shot!"

The blonde scoffed. "Sorry to disobey a direct order." Looking around in the brief moment of reprieve, a flash of panic arose. "Where's Abigail?"

The old soldier nodded to the castle. "I saw her make her way to her mother's old room at the top of the grand staircase. I had to stay and cover the way. She's fine, Finn! Protocol is to fan out and take out as many as you can. Logan is fool enough to think he can protect himself. Ben!"

He was already running, ignoring the pain ebbing in his arm, making his way to the Princess. Panting and heaving, Ben took the stairs two at a time, as fast as his legs would carry him. He only stopped to take an occasional shot at any spotted members of the royal guard. Finally reaching the top of the staircase, he cocked his rifle and aimed. Taking only a moment to catch his breath, he approached the grandiose oak doors.

Ben was expecting several things when he kicked in the door. Blood stained carpets and tapestries, shouting, angry words, bullet holes and possibly getting shot again. Lots of violent imagery, he was prepared for. Abigail and Logan, sipping tea on a settee? Not so much.

The princess smiled behind her teacup, watching as the soldier lowered his rifle, confusion written over his face.

"One of yours, I presume?" Logan sneered. "Really, Abigail? _Ruffians_?"

Motioning for her companion to sit next to her, she placed the delicate porcelain on the table in front of her. "I should like you to meet my captain, Benjamin Finn. Benjamin, my brother Logan."

Dumbfounded as he was, Ben stood firm before the pair. "Princess, I believe the time for niceties has passed. Logan, I'll be taking you to the dungeons now."

Cold eyes rolled. "Is this necessary, Sister?"

A growl ripped from Ben's throat as his rifle took its earlier position. "Not only is this necessary, but this," he waved his rifle, "isn't a question. Up!"

"Do as he says, Brother," Abigail's voice was soft. "When you killed the good Captain Swift, you gave him reason to find any excuse to kill you. Should you refuse to follow him, it will be seen as treason and a threat against the Crown."

Logan eyed his sister indignantly, but her cool demeanor confirmed her words. "To think I had thought you were content to live comfortably in the castle. Had I known you wished for grandeur-"

"I left dreams of contentment on the floor with Elliot's body. I wished to marry him and live peacefully. I wished for those who reside in Albion to prosper and live well. It was become clear that these wishes will never come to fruition as long as you remain king. Now, if you would follow Captain Finn."

Ben's gun remained level with the fallen king's head, his finger hovering above the trigger. Trained on Logan, he followed him closely. "I'll return shortly, Princess. Walter is finishing with the last of the royal guard as we speak. There appear to be fewer casualties than we expected. Logan, it seems you had more rats than you thought." The barrel nudged the back of his head, urging him forward.

"I shall wait for your return in the war room," Abigail agreed. "If he should cause any problems…"

"I'll see to it he doesn't," Ben replied smoothly.

The men started down the long corridor toward the castle's atrium, silent save the echo of boots on the marble tiled floors. Even with the circumstances as they were, Logan's posture was flawless, his steps even and with purpose.

Ben found himself silently wishing that was just enough of a reason to kill him. The grout was dark enough to hide the blood stains…

"Tell me, Benjamin, when did you fall for her?"

Ben's eyes narrowed and he gripped his rifle tighter. "I beg your pardon."

"Abigail. I should think you were smart enough to know you weren't very good at hiding your emotion-"

He pressed the rifle to the back of his prisoner's head, the gun already cocked. "You won't get another warning, dolt."

"I should think killing me over a simple question wouldn't be taken kindly-"

The soldier cracked the butt of the rifle to the crown of Logan's head, rendering him unconscious. He had wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger. He had, in the secrecy of his own mind, dreamt of killing Logan. If it hadn't been for Abigail, he was sure to have fixated on the idea. But he knew if he pulled the trigger, she would always think of him as the man that killed her only remaining family on an impulse. He couldn't let himself be goaded into it. However, had he truly thought things through, he now realized he should have waited to strike him when they were closer to the dungeon.


	7. Chapter 7

**I apologize for it being a bit disjointed, and slightly abrupt. I had unexpected visitors that kept me from finishing the chapter when I had planned, which leads to me being slightly distracted and not so good at tying my thoughts together. Plus, it is late and I had to add another stop in tomorrow's festivities. But I promised a Christmas update and smut, and I don't want to make myself a liar at this stage of the game- Santa might not bring me anything good ;). So to the lovely emberlies and the amazing reviewer who shall hereby be known as Cassandra Finn, I thank you for your amazing reviews! This one's for you.**

**(yea, definitely not safe to read at the in laws…)**

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Though she was positive no one would believe her if she were to ever tell them, Logan had been a very kind child. Several years older than the young princess Abigail, Logan had doted on his little sister and had been her protector through the most difficult of times, and had always shown her a great deal of patience. Abigail, as darling as she may have been, had been much more tempestuous and passionate; whether she was happy or upset, her emotions were hardly kept to herself. While she had grown out of her childhood fits to a much more mild mannered and proper adolescent, patience was the one great virtue she had never quite mastered.

And on the night of the upheaval she spent months preparing herself for, she found herself grasping at the very last bits of composure while she waited for Ben to meet her in the war room. She had noticed the gunshot to his trigger arm with great dismay, knowing if she paid any mind with Logan present he would use her weakness to his advantage. After all the work they had done and everyone they had lost, she could not falter.

Rubbing her temples, she paced the room quickly. Ben had been gone close to an hour, the eleven bells ringing clearly in Bowerstone's marketplace, much longer than it should have taken him to escort Logan to the cells. Cerberus whimpered softly to his mistress as he sat by the large map of Albion and it's surrounding borders.

"Dear Maker, what could be taking him?" she wondered aloud, coming to a halt before the vast table, hands resting on the edges.

"Sorry for the wait, Princess. It's hard to drag an unconscious man one-armed down a flight of stairs without causing him serious injury," Ben's voice held it's usual jovial tone, only slightly fatigued. At her nervous glance, he continued. "He'll be fine. Got a mouth on him, your brother does."

"Thank Avo, Benjamin! I was worried," she breathed, meeting him in the middle of the room and wrapping her arms around his neck. "You promised me you would be careful!"

"Next time, shall I send word ahead that I'm not allowed to be hurt? You know, so the other soldiers know not to shoot at me? Besides, I recall you promising that you would stay with Walter," Ben retorted, his uninjured arm wrapping around her waist as his lips pressed to her hair.

"Shut up, Benjamin."

Grinning, he ghosted his lips over her ear. "I'm sure you would rather enjoy a few of the things my mouth is capable of."

Blushing a deep crimson, her reply was half-hearted. "Would you like that bullet to remain in your arm permanently?"

oooOOOooo

Sighing in near contentment, Ben relished in the feel of the hot water surrounding him, only wincing when the water splashed the slightly reopened wound on his right bicep. The pain was fairly quick to subside, due in part to the tumblers of dark rum Abigail had handed to him before and after the bullet's removal, and he found himself relaxing back into the rose-scented water.

The lavish bathtub had been prepared by castle servants, who had welcomed back Abigail with warm smiles and deep bows. She had thanked each of them individually before shooing them off to tend to her captain herself. Closing the mahogany doors, a few short steps brought her to Ben's side.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," she commented humorously. "How could anyone ever confuse you for a ruffian?"

Ben faked a scowl, but it was short lived as he took in her green silk night gown that left her arms and legs bare. He appraised her unabashedly, taking in the faint lines that swirled on her skin. Curling around her wrists, up her arms and over the ample swell of her breasts, the lines of her will seems to converge at the center of her chest, forming into the shape of a small bird, wings spread. "I'd like to think every man is entitled to a hot bath every now and again. If it came with a partner as beautiful as you, I doubt any man could refuse."

"Even drunk, you find almost the right words to makes a woman weak in the knees," the princess teased, sitting on the edge of the large tub, the gown revealing a few more inches of forbidden, pale skin.

Shifting in the tub, Ben felt the familiar twinges of growing lust. His hand sought out hers, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "It's not your knees I'm trying to make quiver, Abigail."

Cheeks tinged pink as Abigail gently squeezed his fingers, lowering her lips to his for a slow kiss. Their lips worked together, barely breaking apart for air as she carefully climbed into the tub. Powerful thighs straddled his own as water sloshed over the sides. Her hand trailed over his chest, covered in a dusting of fine, blonde hair as she broke from his mouth, panting.

Ben's lips latched to her clavicle, tongue tracing along the living tattoo and slipping under the drenched fabric to a hardened nipple. Each mewl and gasp that fell from Abigail's kiss swollen lips encouraged him, circling and nibbling just that much harder and faster. When the captain's hand fell from her hip to her core, he was surprised as she bucked forward into his touch, moaning loudly.

His eyes kept to her face, watching each flicker of pleasure and want as it danced over her. Her eyes were squeezed shut as his thumb began to slowly circle the pearl of nerves at her center. Moving deliberately and slowly, he waited for her hips to buck again greedily before his second finger slowly pushed through her folds. She cringed slightly at the intrusion, but her hips continued their movements against him, wanton moans still pouring from soft pink lips.

Her nails scratched lightly down his chest, leaving neat marks in their wake as her hips began to shake with little restraint, her moans becoming frantic as she reached her peak, clenching around his finger. Collapsing against him, her breathing was labored and warm against his neck. "If this is what happens when you receive minor gunshot wounds, I may just have to rethink my position."

Her smile was brilliant as her lips met his again, her hand traveling to his own aching need..


	8. Chapter 8

Abigail's mind was racing, unsure of how she had gotten herself into the mess she was in. Just a few hours before, her dear Walter had gently placed the crown of gold atop her head, naming her queen. She had been genuinely happy, relieved that the people of Albio were so willing to accept her usurpation of Logan's seat on the throne. Her most valuable allies and more importantly, friends, stood beside her on the dais, their presence encouraging.

None smiled broader than Ben.

Now, she was walking toward the throne room, her demeanor outwardly calm, poised and confident, but inside, she was at war. First on the agenda was the matter of her brother's fate.

The young page's voice rang clear, announcing her arrival. Even through the crowded room, she easily spotted Ben, Walter and Page standing on either side of the gilded throne. It wasn't until she sat, facing the mass of onlookers that she was able to find her brother, hands shackled, guards with swords drawn flanking him.

"Today we are assembled before Her Majesty, Queen Abigail, to bear witness to her first official act on behalf of the crown. The decision to be made regards the matter of her brother, Logan, for the crimes he has committed against the people of Albion." Bowing, the page stepped aside.

Hands neatly folded in her lap, Abigail watched as Walter stepped forward without hesitation, his lips moving behind the coarse grey hair that covered his face. His words never made it to her ears, her mind wracking itself in indecision.

It was Page who snapped her out of her reverie, and back to the matter at hand. She was surprised to see the rebel leaders face uncharacteristically serene, a far cry from the hardened look she typically wore. "Your Highness, you have succeeded where many thought you would not. You have also proven yourself to be honorable and compassionate in your journey to the throne. The Resistance will stand behind the judgment you make today, regardless, though we ask your favor in pardoning Logan." Voices raged over Page's own, causing her to huff. Turning to the crowd, she asked for quiet. "No more blood needs to be shed. Let the reign of Good Queen Abigail begin and remain as one of tolerance and peace."

Turning to Ben, the young queen looked at him expectantly. "Have you any words for us to consider, Captain Finn?"

Bowing his head respectfully, he took a step forward. "I do not, My Queen. It would be unfair for me to request any outcome, as my judgment is highly biased. Those loyal to you, including your guard and armies, give you full support, no matter your choice today."

Abigail's façade of indifference cracked, confused by his words. Quickly recovering, she nodded and replaced the mask. "Very well, Captain Finn. Logan, have you anything to say in your own defense?"

"I do not, Sister. Anything I could say should not be a matter for peasant's and petty soldier's ears. I only wish you to know that I have taken the liberty of preparing several documents for you, regarding possible threats and diplomatic relations. I expect no mercy from my usurper."

Swallowing hard, Abigail's eyes narrowed. "My dear brother, I had hoped you would share with us all your grand plan for Albion, what with child labor, murder and treachery on your daily agenda. However I can see your reasons are your own, and your own cowardice will keep them that way. Logan, I shall not grant your pardon, for it is clear you harbor no remorse for your actions. Guards, if you would remove him?"

The page's voice again rang out, clearing the room of its spectators. Page followed with several members of the Resistance. Soon, only Walter, Ben and the queen remained in relative silence, none knowing where to begin, though it was Walter who took the plunge.

"What was that, Finn?" he began, lips pulling into a frown. "All you've said since Swift's death was how Logan had to pay-"

"He is!"

"-and today, you finally learned how to keep your trap shut?"

"I couldn't ask her to do that, Wally. I'm surprised you did so easily," the captain defended, arms crossed over his chest.

"Gentlemen, please," Abigail sighed. "You both got what you wanted, whether it was voiced publicly or not. I do not believe that it needs to be rehashed yet again."

Walter's large, worn hand clasped her shoulder. "Sorry, Abigail. Just know that Elliot is finally resting to peace. And Swifty and Jammy and every other sod that died because of Logan."

Nodding mutely, she looked her mentor in the eyes. "Go and see to it that it is being carried out in a way that Mother would approve of?" Giving half a smile, Walter agreed and stalked out of the ornate room. "Did I do the right thing, Benjamin?" she questioned, getting up from the throne to stand before him. "Did I do what was necessary?

"I think you did, Abi," Ben admitted ruefully, wrapping his arms around her. "I didn't want you to have to, it's not a fair thing to ask of you, but I can't deny that it's what I wanted."

Resting her head on his shoulder, her breath, unsteady and warm, fell against his collar bone. "I did it for you. I could not deny you the justice you sought."

Chapped lips brushed against her temple. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I love you too much to let the reason for your pain continue to haunt you."


	9. Chapter 9

_Dearest Kassandra, of course Ben will get her through this! In as much of a **NSFW** way as possible!_

_(Thank you to my lovely reviewers, readers, and adders of story/favorites!)_

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Abigail had only felt overwhelming dread, to the point of physically being ill, twice before. The first had been a few short weeks after Elliot had taken her maidenhead, and her menses had been late. She wasn't sure what Logan would have done had he found out, but she was sure she would not have liked it. The second when Logan had made her choose between the protestors and Elliot. It only felt fitting that this time was brought on by Logan, as well.

Having taken up residence in the room that had been her mother's so many years ago, she was hardly surprised to find stacks of letters and journals left for her by her brother, neatly piled and organized on her desk. The book on the very top of the pile was in much better condition than the rest, and it was with great interest that she had begun to delicately flip through the pages.

What had shocked her the most was the urgency of her brother's words; the impending doom of the beautiful nation, strong and curious, that he ruled at the hands of the darkness. Her skin crawled as she pushed the memories of the Auroran cave from her mind. His conflict over being a compassionate king and mourning the loss of most of his citizens, or being thick skinned and harsh, while most would live. Pages turned and were exchanged for more journals and letters, the queen's eyes frantically searching for answers unraveled- the most the most important at the time being what had happened to her beloved brother.

Calloused fingers wiped the tears from her cheeks, the newly appointed Major Finn making gentle noises of comfort as he pulled his lover close. Only a few of the room's sconces remained lit, but even in the dim light, he could see her face was a deep crimson, viridian eyes shining with tears yet to be shed.

"My dear Abigail," his voice was low, almost a whisper, "we have a year to succeed where Logan failed. I swear to you, we'll make it through this. It's another adventure! I know you've been itching to throw some more fireballs at baddies!"

Chuckling despite herself, she placed the last book down, letting herself seek the safety of Ben's arms. They provided an excellent distraction, she mused to herself, as his chest was bare at the late hour. Just one night she could allow for blatant selfishness and comfort. Her lips sought out his timidly at first, but quickly gaining confidence as her tongue traced along his lips. Ben was quick to allow her entrance, letting her taste the sweet, spiced rum that lingered on his tongue as their mouths clashed, fighting for dominance.

Abigail's leg swung over Ben's lap, straddling him, her lips never leaving his. His hands found her thighs and inched higher, lifting the powder blue silk of her nightgown to grip her naked hips. Lowering herself swiftly, she began to grind against the hardness, barely contained, in the major's trousers. His hands, surely leaving bruises from the strength of his grip, kept the tempo as his own hips raised to meet hers.

In the back of his mind, Ben thought of slowing their pace. Their movements now were as greedy and frantic as they typically were, and while that was fine and dandy in his opinion, they never had the convenience of taking their time. But as her head fell back and hands dipped to release his craning member of its confines, their bare flesh burning with combined friction and desire, aided only by the wetness of her core, he decided arguing was futile and pointless. This night, she would be his, and any guard within distance of hearing her hoarse cries would be made aware.

The queen fumbled clumsily by the bedside, opening creaky drawers until she found the square packet she sought. Slipping it to Ben's palm, she let her hands roam his shoulders and chest, muscles glistening, while her ministrations stopped. When his hands took their former place, she let one hand tangle in his hair while the other guided him to her. In a single motion, she took him in, jaw falling slack as wordless moans filled the room.

Within moments, the two moved against one another, striving for a single goal. Ben's hands found themselves cupping Abigail's heaving breasts. Thumbs circled nipples through the smooth fabric, pinching and flicking. Thoughtlessly, the nightgown was torn and his lips found her breasts, suckling and nipping at porcelain skin. His tongue followed the now familiar tattoos, tracing the patterns cumbrously as his rebel queen bounced in his lap.

As her hips churned and whorled, Abigail's hands kept Ben's mouth directed towards her chest, his own sounds of pleasure sending shockwaves to her core. She would not last much longer, she knew, speeding up her movements. Clenching around him, a guttural cry ripped from her, her fingers tugging at his hair. Her movements continued, if at a more deliberate pace, until she had reached her end. Smirking at her lover's confusion, she lifted herself from his aching member. Gently biting her way down Ben's sculpted chest, her hand rubbed over him in a ghost of touch.

Her name fell from his lips in a manner most reserved for prayer as she took him into her mouth, tongue swirling over his tip. His hand found her chocolate curls and he gripped them tightly, the fine strands no longer obstructing his view as her mouth lowered further, to his base, the tense muscles of her throat swallowing around him. Head tilting back and eyes closed, he came undone, body deflating against the plush duvet.

Pulling herself from his body, she swallowed his offered seed. Their mouths were quick to find each other again, this time lazily exploring the territories familiar. "You will stay, won't you Benjamin?"

Placing a kiss to the tip of her nose, his arms held her tight against him. "Not even Wally could chase me out of here."

Abigail giggled. "I wouldn't put it past him to try. You are aware his bedroom is just down the hall?"


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